by Lonz Cook
After breakfast, Tiffany walked around Union Square until it was time to start work. She entered the store, went to her locker in the employee break room, stored her purse and jacket, clocked in and reported to her assigned position. It was early for her since she normally had the afternoon shift. Early morning hours in the store were usually peaceful, but today it was busier than any day she could remembered. The difference between the shifts was the meticulous preparation and clothing presentation — restocking shelves and hanging new clothes on racks, then pricing items — during the morning shift, versus the less hectic afternoon shift with a focus on customer interactions. She realized customers were more interesting.
It was near her lunch break when she noticed Tom. He entered the building from Union Square, stepped downstairs and walked directly to her counter. It felt like the winds of change pushed Tom towards her. Before Tiffany had a chance to greet him, he looked down at the perfume display counter where she had replaced a coworker who had gone on break. “Do you have this ring in a size nine?”
“That isn’t real sir. It’s a giant plastic replica and it goes with this perfume display.” Tiffany smiled, waiting for laughter in Tom’s response.
“Really?” he made a twisted smirk on his face then lifted his head and saw the smile in her eyes. “How’s your day so far?”
“Great, what a pleasant surprise. I didn’t expect to see you.”
“I was near the store and I saw you from the window.”
“Spying on me?” asked Tiffany.
“I wouldn’t say spying;” he smiled, “I’d say admiring is a better descriptive.”
“You’re dangerous. You know we’re off-limits.”
“Who says this is going anywhere?”
“I wouldn’t consider it going anywhere. It’s nice of you to drop by and say hello. I guess I’ll see you on the bus later today?”
“How about having coffee with me during your next break?”
“I don’t think so, but it’s nice of you to ask. I’m serious about not getting involved with a married man.”
“Thanks for the honesty but I’m just offering conversation.”
“Conversations can be the first step.”
“Not if we’re on our p’s and q’s. There’s nothing wrong with innocent conversation, unless you have other thoughts.”
“I have to get back to work. We can chat another time. Have a wonderful day Tom.”
“I’ll see you around.”
Tom did an old fashioned wave before leaving. Tiffany’s workday ended without the shift leader asking her to work late. She clocked out, got her things from the locker and headed to the bus stop. Before she escaped the building, Valerie caught up with her. “You and I have plans tonight.”
“No, not again, Valerie, not again.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Who's it with this time? Are we meeting them there or am I meeting a blind date and your guy is picking you up to meet us later? Last time we met at a club.”
“We’re meeting them. Remember the coffee shop you went to for your date with Steven?”
“It wasn’t a date.” Tiffany walked towards the store’s exit with Valerie walking alongside. “Besides, why go there of all places?”
“It’s got the right stuff. We can enjoy watching guys come in and escape if we need to. You know, why give your all to a man you really don’t know?”
“Why go if we’re going to meet dates? Wouldn’t you think its better that we go there alone and take a chance on new guys instead of meeting your friends there?”
Valerie shook her head left to right while responding.
“Because chance never works.”
“Call me. I’ll be ready.”
“I didn’t tell you what time.”
“No worries, I know what time you get off. And I’ll be ready. Just call me to make sure I still want to go.” Tiffany didn’t wait for a response; she left the store and walked into pedestrian traffic traveling on a direct path to the cable car stop. She jumped on the next trolley towards home. During the ride, she noticed there were a lot of tourists on the cable car. Tiffany giggled as she took an open seat. A minute into the ride, she grabbed her cell phone and noticed an email notification on her screen. She read her email:
San Fran Pearl, what a name. I bet you’re just as you described. I saw your profile picture, read your quick note and find you one interesting soul. I’d love to chat and see if we can create opportunities for a future. Please tell me, your picture is actually you. I just have to know;
As you referred,
Stranger ☺
She smiled at the cute email but decided to wait until she got home to respond. She wanted a chance to review his profile again. She wanted to make sure ‘Stranger’ was that someone with whom she would like to continue a conversation. She noticed the next email was from Manny.
Hi Tiffany,
Nice of you to reply. I like seeing your emails in my inbox. It’s a good feeling knowing someone is thinking of me. I decided to visit Camille’s coffee shop near the college. It was packed with kids. My gosh! Those college students looked so young. They reminded me of new recruits from my Navy days. I mean not quite fresh out of diapers but more like little tykes playing dress up/make-believe with guns. Oops, I digress.
Camille was interesting to say the least. She runs a nice shop, and it seems to do well. When I entered the place, she barely recognized me. I took that as a “bad sign,” and nearly turned around. But then my daughter yelled, “Dad,” and when she greeted me, at least there was a smile. She quickly took me aside and led me to a table. It wasn’t like there were many places to sit, but her interest in my seating led me to believe I was at least special. I took your advice and gave her a copy of Coffee Barrister’s Book of Drinks and a special blend of coffee. I knew I had made a good selection. That was until she looked at me with a raised eyebrow. In haste I second-guessed my selection. She left the table and pointed to the bar and said she would be back.
She placed a cup of coffee from one of the book’s recipes in front of me. I smelled great. She smiled as she turned after placing the cup and focused on her business. It was a busy time so I stood and offered to help her in the shop, but she insisted I was a guest. I sat there for over “an hour and although my daughter visited the table a few times between customers, Camille never returned; she instead periodically waived. She kept a pace usually youngsters would keep, going from table to counter and pressing the coffee machine for orders she received. When she stood at the counter with another customer, I approached her and insisted on paying for the coffee. Of course, Camille didn’t want me to pay so I left but I left a few dollars anyway. I saw her smile as I left the shop, but something was missing. Even though I took your advice, I felt as if I hadn’t made the connection I’d hoped for.
I hope you’re having better luck at this dating game than I am. Even though many aren’t the Prince Charming you seek, at least men are eager to kiss you. Let me know how you’re doing when you get a chance.
Your friend,
Manny
Tiffany put her phone back into her purse before she stepped off the cable car. She walked to the corner bus stop and waited for the next bus. Within minutes, Tiffany was on a bus and continuing her journey. When she got home, she grabbed her mail and saw a pink slip for an undelivered package. Tiffany placed her mail on the kitchen counter, booted up her laptop and quickly responded to Manny’s email. While she wrote, she couldn’t stop thinking about the pink slip. She loved getting gifts. After sending her response, she changed into comfortable clothing, grabbed the slip and hurried to the post office.
Chapter 14
Manny drove north from Camille’s coffee shop right after sending Tiffany an email from his daughter’s laptop in time to beat rush hour traffic. He had learned, while living in South Florida, that traffic congestion infiltrated the streets and byways of Miami during certai
n times of day. While he enjoyed his bike, he relished the feeling of freedom with the wind as opposed to the torment of riding in the middle of rush hour traffic.
It wasn’t long after Manny left Camille’s shop that he sparked an idea to extend a dinner invitation and night of dancing. He recalled their first outing wasn’t bad and his recent visit to her coffee shop didn’t turn him off. He passed the first Fort Lauderdale exit and decided to explore the beach and locate a party destination to show Camille. Manny drove back to his apartment by Highway 1A-1 and rode Atlantic Avenue. He watched beachcombers enjoy the sun. It was the right timing for tourists which gave him plenty to view and was a break from the busy work schedule. Manny escaped the large crowd by finding a parking space further north. He then strolled on the beach, watching people and glancing at an ocean freighter in the distance.
Manny walked north along the beach and decided to sit in the sand. He thought of how he had blown it with Cheryl. He remembered how, when they were first married, she had been spontaneous and sensually exciting. He smiled remembering how Cheryl could whip up a meal from nothing and did not mind their struggle on a 3rd Class Petty Officer’s pay. He then frowned, thinking of the impact of his long deployments; the beginning of their ending. Cheryl’s will and patience shortened and her entire life wrapped around Suzie. The little girl became her only focus. Manny’s home comings felt like interruptions to Suzie’s schedule.
A year of fighting with Cheryl during two overseas missions, and Manny’s training schedule was the last straw for their relationship. Manny remembered his last homecoming where Cheryl wasn’t at the pier and he had to call a cab to get home. Cheryl had jumped off of the military deployment widow-wagon and decided she could raise Suzie alone.
Manny picked up a sea shell, looked at it and tossed it towards the oncoming wave. He remembered that Cheryl could not live in Norfolk but she was good enough to stay near the naval base after legally separating. Whenever Manny’s ship was in port, at least he could spend time with Suzie. Manny stood and brushed sand from the seat of his pants. My next relationship is going to be different, he thought.
Manny returned to his bike and headed towards home. He ventured north to West Palm Beach where he spent most of his days. Just a few miles from home, after passing a strip mall in the center of town, Manny noticed an Italian restaurant named La Sirena with a charming entry way. Piqued by curiosity and a prodding appetite, Manny turned into the parking lot and parked his bike in front of the restaurant. Once inside he looked around and immediately formed an idea to make this the spot for a date with Camille. But, before calling her to reserve the date, he contemplated trying a random dish from the menu.
The hostess greeted Manny, escorted him to a table, and handed him the menu. Within minutes of being seated, the waiter placed a glass of water on the table and took his order. Manny observed the restaurant’s décor and admired how the owners created a classy environment and supported local artists by displaying their paintings as well as stained glass murals on many of the window. The restaurant also exhibited metal work as table decor. They served bread in metal bread baskets made by local crafters.
All of the items had discretely placed price tags on them. Manny was known as a chef by his family and friends, and Italian cooking classes helped him evaluate the food’s authenticity. He knew it took focus and finesse to cook most Italian dishes. Manny had been stationed on the Naval Base in Naples, Italy and on days he didn’t eat in the mess hall, he went to local family owned restaurants.
When the waiter returned with the meal, Manny knew it had been prepared well. The aroma, the rich body, intoxicated him; he was like a wine connoisseur sticking his nose in a wine glass. He looked at the colorful presentation and it reminded him of Flora, the nice old lady who ran his favorite spot near the base. He smiled as he picked up his fork. He thanked the waiter and without hesitation, took the first bite.
Manny evaluated each bite as if the meal was in competition for the world’s best Italian food in Florida. He laughed remembering the dish with each bite, he mumbled the names of the flavors he savored, remembering the cooking classes he took in Naples. When he finished, he called Suzie. “Hi, baby girl.”
“Hi, Dad. What are you up to?”
“Not much, but I have an idea and I wanted to run it by you.”
“Okay, what is it?”
“I think I should ask Camille out for a date. Is she seeing anyone? I don’t want to overstep my boundaries.”
“Dad, would I introduce you if I knew there was someone else?”
Manny paused before answering. “No, baby girl, you wouldn’t. I’m going to ask her out, so don’t say anything.”
“Make sure it’s Saturday night. Her Fridays are real busy. She lets students share open mic poetry and sometimes there’s a guy who plays his guitar. It’s really fun. You should come by one of those nights.”
“Sounds interesting enough, and I may do that one day, ‘Yeah me and a bunch of college kids as if I would blend in that crowd’.” Manny turned the conversation back to his focus. “Right now, I’m at an Italian restaurant in West Palm. Do you think she would like Italian? It’s really a neat place.”
“Remember Dad, she’s a sweet woman.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m just saying.” Suzie giggled as she knew to end the call before Manny got into her smart comment. “Bye Dad, love you.”
“Love you, too.” Manny disconnected his call, looked at the check left by the waiter and placed his credit card on top of the leather holder. She’s a smart kid, and I bet she’s scared I’ll pull Camille away for a wild time, maybe break her heart in the effort. Damn, does she know me or what? The waiter returned and offered dessert. Instead, Manny gave the waiter a message to take to the chef. “Please share my apologies to the chef. I assumed they wouldn’t have any idea how to cook authentic Italian.”
“You want me to apologize for you?”
“Please do. I’m usually a food critic, but man was this good. It’s like we attended the same cooking classes in Italy. Can you please tell him thanks for a wonderful meal?”
“I’ll do it right away. Would you like anything else?”
“No, I think the apology is enough. Thank you.”
After the waiter left, Manny looked at his watch, stood from the table and took in another look of the place. He nodded confirmation that it was the right place to impress Camille. He walked to the bar right when the waiter returned with the credit card slip and to Manny’s surprise, with the head chef in tow. He greeted the chef with a handshake. “Man, your cooking took me back to Naples.”
“Thanks, I appreciate the compliment. Naples is where I learned to cook.”
“Really?”
“Yes, Rick Armando,” the chef smiled as he took a seat. “You mind if I join you?”
“No, not at all. I’m honored. I’m Manuel Perez, but most call me Manny.”
“Nice meeting you, Manny. Have a seat,” the Chef pointed at the bar stool next to him, “You said you took cooking lessons in Italy. When were you there?”
“During my Navy years I was stationed at the air station in Naples in the early 80’s. You know, had to find something to do besides hanging out in bars. After visiting all the historical sites you can take in, it was either attend college or find a hobby. I took up cooking.”
“Funny, I was there as a sailor too. Not in the 80s, but from ‘01 to ‘03. I did the same thing for the same reason; it’s a small world.”
“Yes, very small. Is this your restaurant?”
“No, I’m the head chef, not the owner. The owners are very good people, and they’ve always treated me with the utmost kindness and respect.”
“I guess working here is nothing like being in the Navy.”
“No comparison. You know, there are times when I miss those days in the fleet, but then I snap back to reality. I remember being underway on a carrier, and it f
elt like we would never get home. If it didn’t fill me with anxiety, I would have stayed beyond six years. I got off that ship and became a land lover. The best decision I ever made.”
“How did you end up in West Palm Beach?”
“At first, I followed a lovely woman here. Then I fell in love with Ft. Lauderdale. A couple of years later I took a chance and started looking for a job as a chef, After meeting the owners, working here was smoother than Neapolitan ice cream. How about you?”
“I retired from the Navy a few years ago. I took a job in South Florida to be close to my daughter.”
“Family first. That’s good.”
“Listen Rick, can I ask a favor, sailor to sailor?”
“Sure.”
“I’m setting up a date with a special lady. I’d like to bring her here. Would you mind creating a dish off the menu?”
“Are you sure I can cook it?”
“Oh, you can, it’s authentic Naples Campania – I was thinking of maccheroni ai quattro formaggi, salad and maybe some of that Neapolitan ice cream you just mentioned. I know she’ll love it.”
“Yes, an easy dish, and when it’s done right, it’s awesome.”
“Nobody can hate this meal. Do you need me to send you the ingredients or do you have it covered?”
“As a brother sailor, it’s covered. No problem.”
“I’ll call you with the date. I haven’t asked her yet.”
“She’ll come. A sailor’s charm always works. Just give me a day’s notice for shopping, okay?”
“You got it, Rick. I appreciate the support.”
“No problem.”
Manny gave him a gentleman’s hug as they shook each other’s hand and their shoulders touched.
“Here’s my card Manny, give me a call when you’re ready.”